Girls' Night Out
by Amethyst Jackson
Summary: Ron: The day Moody turns us and Malfoy into girls is the day You-Know-Who dances in a floral print bikini. Honestly, Harry, what's gotten into you?


Title: Girls' Night Out

Author: Katie Adams

Author E-mail: AmethystJackson@hotmail.com

Rating: PG-13

Spoilers: Your appetite.

Category: Comedy

Summary: A tale of what happens when Mad-Eye Moody puts a curse on you and Snape has a drinking problem.

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. 

Author's Note: I wrote this for a challenge that Aileen made (*grins*). The requirements were as such:

Pick 3 out of the following 4 sentences to insert anywhere in your fic. It must make sense; no random inserting. (Okay that sounded kind of wrong…*cough*) {ß That was Aileen's commentary} try to refrain from modifying them.

1. Harry later realized, upon quiet reflection, that it had not been wise to welcome Mad-Eye Moody back from his three month stint in St. Mungo's Mental Ward by jumping from behind a door and shouting "Boogah Boogah Boogah!"

2. There were some things the human mind was just not built to handle. Lord Voldemort in a floral bikini was at the top of the list.

3. "Ninety-four bottles of butterbeer on the wall," sang Snape, "Ninety-summin' bottles of stuff. If one of 'em [hic] fingies should happen to fall, forty-seven bottles of - hang on. 'ere what're you lookin' at, Peasley? Wotter?" 

"Professor, if you don't stop coming back from the pub without your trousers you're going to get fired, you know?"

4. Hermione looked up from the enormous tome. "The spell doesn't wear off for at least a day. It looks like you three are just going to have to get used to being girls."

***

Witch Weekly

Issue 546, No. 1

Week of June 2, 2002

Hallo, faithful readers. This week Katie, along with our other talented writers, brings you pure chaos. I mean complete pandemonium! When asked if she had any regrets about writing such a piece, Katie said only, "I really wanted to use the quote about Snape in frilly pink panties, but you win some, you lose some, eh?" When asked about that particular statement, Hogwarts Professor Severus Snape refused to comment and turned a lovely shade of green. Suspicious? We think so. Anyhow, on to the chaos. Read at your own risk.

Girls' Night Out

By Katie Adams

Harry later realized, upon quiet reflection, that it had not been wise to welcome Mad-Eye Moody back from his three month stint in St. Mungo's Mental Ward by jumping from behind a door and shouting "Boogah, Boogah, Boogah!"

The old, paranoid man had taken up the Defense Against the Dark Arts job after spending the summer in St. Mungo's. It had been Fred's idea, initially, to give Moody a big welcome back. He had said to surprise him. So, Harry and Ron, though they knew it was a stupid thing to do, decided to do just that.

No, he didn't turn them into ferrets. It was worse. When they had leaped into the hallway from behind that door, Moody was so frightened that the curse he tried to use went haywire.

He had been trying to turn them into cats. Really, he was. But it went all wrong and instead of cats…

"Cor!" Ron cried. "We're _girls_!"

Harry looked down at his hands. They were smaller, delicate. A long wisp of hair fell across his face. It was still jet black, but incredibly long, and it wasn't mussed up as usual. Harry glanced over at Ron and found it difficult not to laugh, despite the situation.

Ron's hair had become shoulder-length and incredibly curly. He didn't make a pretty girl, that was for sure, especially being as gangly as he was. And his nose was far too big for his face now.

It was just their luck that Draco Malfoy had been watching.

Draco came strutting out from his hiding place in the shadows, a smirk souring his otherwise handsome face.

"Well, well. Potty and the Weasel – in dresses."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Really, Malfoy, taunts like that really don't work when we're not actually in dresses." Harry was almost surprised to hear his own voice; had he been singing, he would have been a high soprano.

Just then, Moody, with his last bit of sanity, turned on Draco and cursed him as well. A pretty, silver-haired girl stood before them, bearing a remarkable resemblance to Fleur Delacour. Unlike Harry and Ron, he was wearing a dress now, one with a lovely pattern of violets over a lavender background. Also unlike Harry and Ron, he looked perfectly complacent.

"Ha, who's the one in a dress now?" Harry quipped.

Dignified as ever, Draco replied, "At least I'm a pretty girl."

"Eurgh, sod off, Malfoy," Ron snapped. "Come on, Harry – let's go get Hermione."

Why Hermione, you ask, if Moody was right there? Because, the shock sent him into such a state that they had to send him back to St. Mungo's. Snape would be covering Defense Against the Dark Arts, much to Harry's displeasure.

"No!" Draco cried. "You can't just leave me like this."

Harry scowled. "I thought you were satisfied with your girlish good looks."

"Yes, but I don't want to be a girl forever. Might be fun for a day or two – or maybe a night or two – but I – I'm so not a girl."

"Become a lesbian, then," Ron said acidly.

"Come on – let's just call a truce, for just a little while."

"Oh, fine, Malfoy," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "We'll call a truce. But don't you try anything."

They found Hermione in the common room, poring over her books. She didn't recognize them at first, but after a second look, she knew.

"Oh my God," she said through wheezes of laughter. "W-what happened to you two? And who's this girl?"

"Moody," Ron grumbled.

"That's _Moody_?"

"No!" Draco cried.

"He cursed us – Moody did," Harry delineated. "Fred sort of told us to surprise him, and when we did…he went…quite mad. He tried to turn Ron and I into cats, but the spell turned us into girls instead. And this is Malfoy. Moody had a second wind."

"Oh, you idiots! You surprised Moody? My God, I thought you had more brains than that… Er, Malfoy? Why are you wearing a dress?"

"It came with the curse," Draco snapped defensively.

"All right, then," Hermione replied skeptically. "I think I've got a book on this particular class of curses…"

Hermione left her chair in the corner and dashed up the stairs to the girls' dormitories.

"So this is Gryffindor Tower," Draco said as he surveyed the room. "Not bad for a Mudblood house."

"_Malfoy_," Harry said warningly.

"Right, truce, I know…"

Hermione rushed back into the room with a huge, tattered book, labeled with the title, _Really Nasty Curses That You Need to Undo Before Your Professor Sees._

Harry scowled at the book. "Nice title," he commented.

"It looks like a real waste of time, I know. But you wouldn't believe how many spells that I've used to save your butt that have been in this book."

Harry went silent as Hermione flipped through the many heavy pages.

"Eureka!" she shouted, stopping on one of the stranger pages. Her eyes scanned over it, shushing Ron and Draco as the questioned her about it, until finally she found what she wanted. Hermione looked up from the enormous tome. "The spell doesn't wear off for at least a day. It looks like you three are just going to have to get used to being girls."

"What?! A day? You've got to be kidding," Harry whined in his new high-pitched voice.

"It says it can last anywhere from twenty-four to seventy-two hours," Hermione explained. "But there's no countercurse. It's meant to last awhile then wear off…"

"Well," Draco huffed, "I, for one, am going to have fun with this. Girls' night out, I say. Who's with me?"

Harry scowled. "Why would we want to go out with you?"

"Why wouldn't you want to go out with me?" Draco said, aghast. "I'm Draco Malfoy, registered sex god. I'm dark and sexy and – why are you looking at me like that?"

"And this is the son of You-Know-Who's right-hand man," Harry said to Ron, rolling his eyes.

"What's the matter?" Draco taunted. "Too afraid to be seen as girls? Or just too afraid to go out in public without getting everyone's attention? Ah, wait, I see. You need to have some time alone with yourselves. Lord knows you two probably need a lesson in female anatomy –"

"_Malfoy_," Hermione interrupted. "Leave them alone."

She rounded on the other two. "Come here," she commanded to Harry. He took a tentative step towards her. Hermione whipped out her wand and muttered a few charms. Harry felt a slight tingle on his forehead, and then watched in awe as his glasses changed shape on his face.

"There, that's better," Hermione said triumphantly. "No one will recognize you as Harry Potter now."

Harry sighed. "I really don't want to do this."

"You will," Hermione demanded, glaring from Harry to Ron. "And if you don't, I'll make sure you're in this condition for a bit longer."

"Really, Hermione, I don't –"

"Oh, be a man!" she yelled.

"That's a bit difficult at this juncture," Harry replied coolly.

"Oh, that's right, and you're in boys' clothes…come with me. Now."

Harry and Ron followed Hermione up the spiral staircase to her dormitory, glancing warily at each other as she went to her closet.

"Here!" she said triumphantly as she pulled out two dresses. "Put these on."

"No way," Ron said vehemently. "I am _not_ wearing a dress."

"_Ron_."

"Oh, er, what a lovely floral pattern…"

"Good," she said with a self-satisfied smirk. "Let's all meet in the Entrance Hall in half an hour."

*****

Hogsmeade was an entirely different place from a female perspective, especially when men started looking you over.

But the night became Hell on Earth when they saw Snape eyeing them. He walked closer, staggering (though the expression on his face said that he thought he was looking smooth). Harry and Ron held their collective breath as he reached them, smiling as seductively as Snape could manage.

"And what are two loverly ladies such as yerselves [hic] doing here all 'er-lone?" 

"Er –"

"Are you drunk?"

"Wha? Me? Der-unk? Nah! Now, won't sher tell me wha'sher names are?"

"Er –"

"Oh, these are my friends Robin Peasley and Harriet Wotter," Hermione said, coming to the rescue. Sort of.

"Ah, well, loverly ladies, won't sher come along with me to ther back?"

"Er –"

"No, I don't think –"

"Oh, come on, ladies," Snape exclaimed rather loudly, grabbing them each by their elbows. "Have some fun with me!"

And so Harry and Ron were dragged through the back door of the Three Broomsticks as Hermione and Draco snickered uncontrollably in their wake.

They found another corridor outside the back door, rather than the rest of Hogsmeade, and Snape dragged them along to a door at the end of the hall.

"Ah, I think yer'll like this 'un. It's er very excru-exclushrive-excrushilive…er, club. You have to be with one 'uve us ter come in…"

"Er –" Ron said again for the fourth time that evening.

Snape opened the door, and both of the boys – or girls? – nearly vomited. 

There were some things the human mind was just not built to handle. Lord Voldemort in a floral bikini was at the top of the list. Especially when he was dancing on a pole.

"Please tell me I'm hallucinating," Harry pleaded to know one in particular as his scar began to throb.

"Oh, let us both be going mad…"

"Come on, the fun's just ber-gun!" Snape cried, pulling them into the room and slamming the door shut.

The horror only grew as Snape clambered onto the stage and started singing and stripping. 

Harry and Ron simultaneously turned a distinct shade of green as Snape fumbled with his belt buckle. If they didn't get out of here soon, well, things would get ugly. Very ugly. Especially since Lucius Malfoy was strutting out from the left side of the stage in an outfit that is not fit to be described.

Trying to forget about Voldemort, Harry and Ron rushed towards the stage. The important thing was getting Snape out, they had decided, though it would have been better just to run.

__

Twenty minutes later…

"Ninety-four bottles of butterbeer on the wall," sang Snape, "Ninety-summin' bottles of stuff. If one of 'em [hic] fingies should happen to fall, forty-seven bottles of - hang on. 'ere what're you lookin' at, Peasley? Wotter?" 

"Professor, if you don't stop coming back from the pub without your trousers you're going to get fired, you know?"

"Wha'sher talkin' about? I got my trouser right 'ere!"

"What he meant to say was 'without your trousers _on,_'" Harry explained.

"Mmm," Snape mumbled. "Well, without ther trousers on, yer can shag be better, eh?" With that, Snape burst into raucous laughter that rang through the night air.

"Oh, thank God we're almost at Hogwarts," Harry muttered.

"Really," Ron agreed. "I can't take anymore singing."

"Ah, ladies! Won't yer let me escort yer down to my love-er-shack?"

"Um, no thanks," Ron and Harry said unanimously.

"Serves yerself, then," Snape said moodily right before he tripped and fell face-first into the grass.

"Do we really have to help him inside?" Harry pondered out loud.

"Nah," Ron replied. "Someone will find him."

*****

"Well, it looks like the spells have worn off completely!" Hermione announced. "Of course, you might have a few after affects. The book says you may react oddly around thongs and –"

Ron coughed loudly, and Hermione stopped speaking abruptly.

"Did you hear?" Seamus asked, coming up behind them. "Snape has to go to a few AA meetings. Apparently, he's got an alcohol problem."

Ron smirked.

"He said the funniest thing though," Seamus continued. "He asked where 'Peasley' and 'Wotter' were. He never got to 'finish up' with them."

Harry and Ron turned crimson and Hermione burst into heavy wheezes of laughter that lasted for a few minutes afterward.

"At least," Harry commented to Ron, "We'll never have to see You-Know-Who in a bikini again."

"Don't be so sure of that," Hermione wheezed, holding up a copy of the Daily Prophet. On the front page was a photograph of Voldemort. On the pole. In the bikini.

Harry and Ron had to make a quick escape to the restroom.

__

The End

Yes, I realize it's a lame ending. I'm bored with this story, though.


End file.
